


way too soft a touch for you

by wrongbed



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2009-2015, Buckle up, Capitalism unfortunately, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Phanfiction, YouTube, this is me trying to capture dan and phil's entire relationship in 6k
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 06:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4210698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrongbed/pseuds/wrongbed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan and Phil come together and fall apart over and over again, and just can't figure out the right way to love each other.</p>
<p>aka what happens when two kids start dating without technically labeling it "dating," and then are still living together 6 years later somehow</p>
            </blockquote>





	way too soft a touch for you

**Author's Note:**

> This vaguely follows the pattern of Dan's perspective first, then Phil's perspective. It's all in third person, though, don't worry. 
> 
> Watch out for swearing and really frustrating miscommunications.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and if you want to chat or read other fics I like, check out my tumblr (solidphanfic.tumblr.com).  
> xoxo
> 
> Alternate summary via Childish Gambino:
> 
> Are we dating? Are we fucking?  
> Are we best friends? Are we something in between that?  
> I wish we never fucked, and I mean that

**October 2009**

There’s a weird, blurry, physics-defying line between friendship and sex and love. Or maybe there are two lines. Or maybe it isn’t a line at all, maybe it’s like, a square or something. Regardless of the shape it takes, though, there’s a _difference_ between having a best friend, and having a fuck buddy, and having a partner. 

18-year-old Dan doesn’t give a fuck about that difference.

He’s young and hormonal and pretty stupid, honestly. And when he meets someone nice-looking who likes the music he likes, and the comics he likes, and the video games he likes—well, he just can’t be bothered to categorize the relationship right away. He figures time will tell, right? Things work out. 

So Dan bobs along in his relationships. Girlfriends are easier than boyfriends because there’s, like, a societal model to follow. But both are nice, and Dan’s young enough to still be pretty desperate for affection (and sex), so he feels grateful for whatever relationships he happens to land. And other than one serious girlfriend in _high school_ of all places, none of his relationships last a particularly long time, so it’s not like he has to constantly ponder their importance. He’s a teenager with a series of low-pressure, low-time-commitment, mostly-sexual relationships. It’s a pretty standard set-up, and a pretty sweet deal, all in all.

When Dan meets Phil, he figures the two of them will follow this pattern.

They’re probably going to hang out, and do cutesy emo-boyfriend things, and have sex, and play video games. Or maybe they’ll figure out that it’s better to just be bros, and do the video game part, and still hang out all the time, and have platonic sleepovers.

And so they do that, at first. But they kind of do—both things? They choose, um, both options, at the same time?

Like, Dan leaves cutesy comments all over Phil’s videos. And he tweets angsty romantic quotes when he’s away from Phil for too long. And when he’s with Phil, it’s hickey central, and hands everywhere, and blush-fueled make out sessions.

But also, when they’re Skyping, it’s very rarely Skype sex. It’s actually, like, four hours of talking. And two of those hours are standard stupid chatter, about the weather and movies and stuff. And one of the hours is for the cutesy romantic stuff. But there’s a solid hour in there where Dan and Phil, like, actually talk. About real things. Things like Dan’s weird anxious tendencies, and what the future of YouTube might be, and family stuff.

And that’s kind of a departure from bros, but it’s also a departure from Dan’s past boyfriends/girlfriends. So Dan knows that this thing with Phil is different. But he doesn’t quite know what that _means_. 

It’ll figure itself out, right?

—

Phil is 22. Which doesn’t mean he has his shit together, because he doesn’t, fully. But he has a degree, and a successful internet career (thing). And technically he’s been an adult for four years. 

So Phil can kind of sense that this is a bad idea.

He hasn’t been in horrifically long-term relationships before. Never more than a year, actually. And so at first he expects this thing with Dan—who is basically a kid who happened to tweet until he got Phil’s attention—to be pretty low-key and short-term. That’s what he’s used to. And for God’s sake, this is a relationship born of _twitter_. His expectations are low.

But when he meets Dan for the first time, he can kind of sense that this is going somewhere, well, serious. The way he feels on that first day in Manchester is new to him. He’s so nervous but Dan is so kind, and so funny, and maybe equally nervous, which hardly ever happens. They spend the whole weekend together and never once does Phil doubt how much he likes this person beside him. He doesn’t want Dan to leave. And he can just kind of tell that Dan _isn’t_ going to leave, not any time soon, anyway. Phil feels in his gut that this _thing_ will just naturally be permanent. 

Phil knows, though, that Dan is pretty much oblivious to the potential complications of a relationship like this. Dan isn’t thinking about the repercussions of constant online flirtation, in places where the whole internet can see. Dan isn’t thinking about the potential backlash that two emo-looking boys face when they constantly touch each other. And Dan certainly isn’t thinking about where a relationship becomes a friendship, and where a friendship ends and merges into a relationship. That’s only a question that pops up after, like, a long time of adult dating.

But Phil knows that this is going to last a long time. And he knows that shit is probably going to hit the fan.

And yet, Phil decides that he won’t think about it either.

It’s really, really immature. And Phil knows better. But he’s honestly never felt as good with anyone before. He’s just really comfortable with Dan and doesn’t want to push it. He’s not fully secure in whatever it is they’re doing, but he knows he likes it, and wants to protect it.

So he doesn’t say anything. He ignores the mature part of himself that keeps nagging him to set boundaries or have a discussion about labels. He pretends that he’s oblivious and carefree. And he figures that 22 is probably still young enough to get away with it.

And he’s kind of right. But eventually he turns 23.

  


———

  


**September 2010**

The first time they break up is an accident.

Dan starts going to university in Manchester. Which is a really great thing because he’s closer to Phil, who at this point is his best friend, and also his boyfriend, which seems like a good combination. (We’ll see.) But moving to Manchester for university is also a horrible disgusting awful thing, because he hates university.

It makes sense that he hates university. Honestly, he should have expected to hate university. But Dan had figured that if he could deal with his first 12 years of primary education, he could probably deal with an additional three.

That assumption, of course, proves to be terribly wrong.

Visiting Phil on the weekends is still nice, obviously. There’s something really comforting about Phil. Just sitting next to him and watching him stumble about is enough to make Dan feel better. And then being able to wrap up around him is obviously an instant mood lifter. But being miserable 80% of the time and feeling vaguely pleasant 20% of the time isn't really working for him.

He shows up at Phil’s apartment anxious and bitter and disgusted with himself. He leaves Phil’s apartment feeling slightly better. But it’s just not working.

He tells Phil it’s not working. 

Phil asks _what_ isn’t working.

“Everything, I guess,” Dan says.

Phil’s the one who suggests they take a break. Dan is surprised, because that’s not what he had in mind at all. But Dan hadn’t really had anything in mind. All Dan really knows is that he needs a change, and he can’t very well change anything about university at this point. So he agrees to take a break from Phil, whatever that means.

Dan never asks what it means.

They still spend almost all of their time together. But they don’t spend so much time talking about how much they care about each other anymore. There’s still some physical stuff, but definitely less. At first Dan figures that maybe their honeymoon phase is over. But then he figures that maybe the whole romance thing is over. Since he isn’t sure about it, though, he tries not to worry about it too much.

—

Phil can tell that Dan is miserable once he moves to Manchester and starts university. Which makes Phil feel like crap, obviously, because Dan is important to him. 

But it’s extra hard for Phil, too, because Dan being miserable means Dan treating Phil differently. The affection exchange starts getting one-sided. It feels like Phil is giving up a lot, exuding a lot, trying a lot. And Dan just isn’t. It makes sense, because Dan is clearly going through a gross transition, so he can’t really be bothered to worry about Phil. 

Phil is kind of used to people not bothering to worry about him. 

Dan has always been different, though. So it hits Phil a little harder than this type of thing usually would.

When Dan comes to Phil and says that things aren’t working, Dan looks _broken_. And Phil assumes—because of how distant Dan has been, and how different it feels to touch him now—that this _thing_ they’ve been doing has finally fallen apart. It’s been a year, so at least they lasted a while.

Phil pulls back, and gives Dan the chance to leave, and isn’t surprised when he takes it.

—

Later in the year, they go a week or two without seeing each other. But then, out of the blue, Dan shows up at Phil’s apartment. He looks worse than Phil has ever seen him. Huge circles under his eyes, a permanent grimace, slow blinking.

“What’s happened?” Phil asks.

“It isn’t working,” Dan says.

And Phil starts to understand that when Dan says “it,” and even when he says “everything,” he’s not referring to their relationship. He has no fucking idea what he’s referring to, but at least it’s not _them_.

So Phil takes a breath and goes for it.

“You don’t have to live in the dorms next year,” Phil says.

Dan looks up, blank. “Where would I live then?”

Phil gives a weak kind of smile. “We could find an apartment together. Two bedrooms.”

Dan’s eyes get a little wider.

“Okay,” he says. “That works.”

—

Dan has no fucking idea why they’re getting two bedrooms.

  


———

  


**August 2011**

The second time they break up is also an accident.

In 2011 Dan turns 20, and he starts realizing things.

Dan starts living with Phil, which is nice first and foremost because it’s Phil. But it’s also nice because once Dan gets away from the physical representation of university, he realizes that he’s mostly miserable _because_ of university, and then realizes that he doesn’t _have_ to go to university.

But also he _does_ have to go to university, because that’s the thing to do.

But also he _doesn’t_ , because he hates it and he has another source of income, and supportive parents, and a boyfriend who can pay rent by himself _anyway_. Because honestly this YouTube thing is way more profitable than he ever could have anticipated.

So he drops out, and gets instantly happier.

And then he realizes how terrifying life is without the cozy structure of education to guide him from day to day.

And _then_ he realizes that he sleeps in a different bed than his boyfriend, and no one knows they’re dating, so does that mean they’re really dating at all? 

This is the first time Dan has had the mental space to critically think about his relationship with Phil. It’s not a pleasant experience. But there’s nothing to distract him from his current life, besides the internet, which stops working as a distraction after about 20 hours.

So, after a couple weeks of silently and internally freaking out, and being guarded and overall terrible, he finally talks to Phil.

“Hey, Phil,” he calls from the couch. “Come here, would you?”

Phil takes no more than thirty seconds, even though he’s probably doing something important, and comes over to the couch.

“Yeah?” Phil says.

And then Dan realizes that he has no real idea how to articulate what he’s feeling without sounding like a dumb romcom.

So that’s what he says.

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a terrible romantic comedy.”

Phil cocks his head to the side, and gives a cautious smile.

There’s a small stretch of silence, which Phil graciously interrupts. “Go ahead anyway, I suppose,” Phil says.

“Okay,” Dan says. “Um, Phil, what are we?”

Phil laughs, but Dan can tell by the way his eyes are still open that he isn’t really laughing, not in a this-is-funny way. Probably in a this-is-a-terrible-question way.

“Um, what do you think we are?” Phil asks.

“Roommates?” Dan suggests, and it’s a complete and utter joke, and a completely terrible one, and Dan means literally nothing by it.

“Oh,” Phil says. He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess that works.” 

And then Phil fucking _leaves_. And Dan is still sitting on the couch, and blinking, and sputtering. And he wants to call out that no, what the fucking _hell_ , of course that’s not what they are, how could Phil ever be okay with that.

But then he figures that Phil must know he was joking.

He doesn’t really know for sure, though.

—

Phil does kind of know that Dan was joking.

They have sex like, at least a couple times a month, so obviously they aren’t just roommates. Phil is at least sure of that.

But he isn’t sure what they are, exactly. And he doesn’t fully want to think about it, because it seems a bit risky. If Dan is willing to joke it off, then so is Phil. It’s safer that way.

It gets a little weird when they start working for Radio 1 together. Because then they’re _co-workers_ , which feels even more platonic than roommates. But they’re co-workers _and_ roommates, _and_ they definitely dated at one point, and they make out in the taxi cab home from Radio 1 sometimes, so maybe it’s a good thing.

Phil isn’t sure. 

He tries not to think about it. He doesn’t really need to. Dan’s the one who overthinks the most. Or, at least he’s the one who talks about overthinking the most. Phil freaks out in his head all the time, but he’s got a way of taking the thoughts and just kind of compacting them, and then ignoring them, and then everything’s fine.

Everything’s totally fine.

  


———

  


**July 2012**

They move to London together. 

Maybe it’s because they’ve known each other for three years now. Maybe it’s because this is the second apartment they’ve shared. Maybe it’s the Radio 1 success. Whatever it is, though, Dan feels really, really good about the _thing_ he has with Phil. Whatever it is. And it’s so _obviously_ good. Dan doesn’t know why it’s taken him so long to appreciate it more. It’s lasted a long-ass time, it’s gotten him all the way to London, it’s gotten him his own hours and his own life.

And also, it’s, like, love.

Dan figures it out the first night in their London apartment. They’re dead tired after unpacking, and sweaty, and don’t have an internet connection yet. So, science would say that Dan would be absolutely miserable.

And to be honest, of course he is.

But also, he looks at Phil, who he’s been making fun of all day for being too clumsy and disorganized and tall.

And Dan just kind of realizes that yeah, he loves him, of course he does. It’s hard to spend 3 years with someone without loving them. Even though they aren’t technically dating or anything.

Of course Dan remembers 2009. Of course Dan remembers the way he used to look at Phil, like he was literally God or something. Like he was the best person to ever exist, on this planet or any other. 

Now Dan knows a lot more about Phil. They’re on equal footing—Phil isn’t the famous-youtuber-slash-older-man that he used to be in Dan’s eyes. They’re both doing pretty well with the youtube thing. And yeah, Phil is older, but that doesn’t come up much anymore.

But even though Dan sees Phil in like, an entirely different light, he still sees him as something really _important_. And _special_. And something that Dan very much needs.

So on the first night in their London apartment, Dan takes advantage of his lack of internet, and spends the night curled up against Phil instead of curled up against his stupid laptop. And he tells Phil over and over again, for the first time in months, how much he cares. 

His post-unpacking body is sweaty and tired, but it fits against Phil’s post-unpacking body perfectly.

And they have two bedrooms, but they only need one.

—

Phil feels like he’s been time transported. For a week, there’s Dan, showing up at his door, smiling. Like, actually smiling. Not doing his sarcastic smirk thing.

Phil is totally down for this change in behavior. He’s glad to have someone in his bed who seems to actually want him. Phil knows, rationally, that Dan has always wanted to be with him, otherwise he would have left. But it’s nice to have Dan actually saying “I love you,” multiple times. It feels _so_ nice.

But also, Phil knows that he hasn’t been time transported. There’s a long stretch of space between what he and Dan _were_ , and who they _are_. First off, they’re independent adults now. Dan isn’t dependent on him, doesn’t have to “look up” to him or anything.

Which is probably good for both of them. But Phil’s naturally a bit nostalgic, so he lets himself mourn for tiny, scrawny, I’m-gonna-be-a-grumpy-lawyer Dan of the past.

But then he lets himself get terribly relieved that they’ve made it this far, because now he can totally shove it in 22-year-old-Phil’s face. Three years without labels, and still going strong. Take that.

—

Of course, everything goes to shit almost immediately.

Dan and Phil are kind of okay with not having labels, but people on the internet are in no way okay with not having labels. So, strangers label the two of them. And Phil is obviously really uncomfortable with it, but he doesn’t say anything.

Dan says a lot of things.

One afternoon Phil finds him in the kitchen, and coughs a little bit.

“Phil, you scared me,” Dan says, narrowing his eyebrows a little bit before clothing the cabinet. “What do you want?”

“Um,” Phil says, “Your tweet.”

“What tweet?”

“The tweet about vaginas,” Phil says.

“Oh,” Dan says.

“Dan.”

“It’s true,” Dan says. “I do like vaginas.”

“The last time you touched a vagina was 2009. 2008?”

“2009,” Dan says.

“Okay.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Dan says. He’s having a lot of trouble with people on the internet trying to tell him who he is. That’s always been a pet peeve of his. He doesn’t like it when his _friends_ try to tell him things about himself, much less when hundreds (thousands?) of people he doesn’t even _know_ are doing it. And he depends on these people for an income, kind of, so that’s fucking stressful.

“Okay,” Phil says. 

—

Phil is fine with Dan being upset. I mean, he’s not _fine_ with it. He wishes Dan wasn’t upset, obviously. He also wishes that Dan would talk to him about it, because Phil is _also_ upset, and so sharing those feelings might be fucking productive. But Dan closes up. So, whatever.

(To be fair, Phil always closes up. It’s hard to tell who’s at fault here.)

Phil acts like it’s fine, though. Whatever. People on the internet talking about them dating. Dan makes a youtube video about it. It’s a joke. Cool.

It stops being cool when the V-Day video gets leaked again, and Dan goes batshit over it.

“Why the fuck would you leave that on youtube?” Dan asks. “Literally, _literally_ , a video in which you _declare your love for me_. And you just leave it on your channel!”

Phil isn't having it.

"Okay, first of all, it was my side channel. Second of all, it was the only way I could show you the stupid video. And third of all, why are you so mad about people finding out I used to love you?"

Dan glares.

“Well now I have to clean all of this up,” Dan says.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

“Yes I did, just now.”

“Just shut up,” Dan says, “And let me fix this.”

Phil is more angry than he’s been in a long time, because the V-Day video is a weird reminder of how vulnerable he used to be, and how Dan used to respond to that vulnerability with reciprocation, and now Dan is just being cruel about it.

“Fuck,” Phil says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  


———

  


**2013**

2013 is simultaneously the best and the worst year of Dan’s life so far. 

He hits a million subscribers. And then two million. And as someone who gets a lot of joy out of numerical affirmation—like, you know, every other human being in the world—Dan gets a kick out of it. It’s fucking weird to have so many people thinking he’s got things worth saying. But it’s also really, really nice. And he decides to make more of an effort to say things worth saying. Then the internet lets him know that it only values videos where he makes an ass of himself and says bitter sarcastic shit, so he gets back to doing that.

He gets the Radio 1 gig permanently, which is also really nice, because it’s more of an actual job that his mom can tell her friends about. And she can actually be proud of him, and know that he’s financially secure, even though he dropped out of university and should, by all accounts, be out on the street.

And he starts to participate more in Youtube things, and make Youtube friends, and travel. He’s really reaping all the benefits of this weird internet niche, and his vaguely nice-looking face, and the willingness of advertisers to monetize the obsessive nature of teenage girls.

So yeah, things are good, things are the best.

Things with Phil are _terrible_. 

Dan tells him that he wants to lay low. He explains that there’s a big spotlight on him now, with all these subscribers and the radio show. So he thinks it makes sense not to make videos together. It makes sense to not talk about each other all the time, on twitter, but even to their friends. These are just the obvious steps to take as fame ramps up.

“Sure,” Phil says. “Makes sense."

—

Of course it doesn’t make _any_ sense. 

Of course Phil knows Dan is being ridiculous.

Of course Phil realizes that this is what he should have expected when he decided to date an 18-year-old without ever talking about their relationship.

But Phil starts thinking about it more, and talking about it to a few of his friends—because, surprising even to him, he _does_ have friends outside of Dan—Phil starts to feel okay with shit. 

There’s this weird acceptance that washes over him in 2013. An acceptance that he’d been faking for a long time, but is finally actually feeling.

Because he can understand why Dan is so scared. And he can understand how weird fame feels to him, how much more interactive Dan is with his internet persona, how deeply personal it is to him.

So Phil knocks on his door.

“Yeah?” 

“Hey,” Phil says. “I want to talk. You busy?”

“No,” Dan says, “Just wasting my time on twitter. Standard.”

Phil laughs, and not in a sad way.

“So,” Phil says, “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I think we need to be friends. Platonic friends.”

Dan doesn’t say anything, but Phil can see his grip on his phone change, and his mouth opens a little. They're small things, but Phil picks up on them.

“What do you mean?”

This is hard, but Phil’s mouth knows how to handle it, even when his insides start squirming.

“I mean we shouldn't have sex anymore,” Phil says. “And we shouldn’t kiss. And we shouldn't sleep in the same bed.”

“Why not?”

Phil looks at Dan and lifts his eyebrow, because Dan should without a doubt _know_ why. But Dan’s face is vacant.

“Because it’s weird, Dan, to date someone but not be allowed to _talk_ about them. It’s weird to _actively deny_ a relationship. It’s weird to _never actually define_ the relationship. And until it gets to a point where it’s less weird, I don’t want to do it,” Phil says. He’s surprised by how reasonable it sounds, said aloud. He’s surprised by how long it’s taken him to be able to say it.

“But you still want to live here?” Dan asks, and Phil can’t figure out his tone.

“Yeah,” Phil says. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” Dan says.

“Okay.”

Phil watches Dan’s hand flex around his phone, and then settle back on his bed. Phil is still standing at the doorway. He feels further, for some reason.

“Okay,” Phil says again. “Let’s film another Phil Is Not On Fire soon.”

“Okay,” Dan says. “That’s not weird or anything.”

Phil smiles, and this time he is sad. But he’s also incredibly relieved. It's the first time that they've ever broken up on purpose, and it feels like, for the first time in four years, they're a _normal_ (ex-)couple. 

They start making videos together again.

  


———

  


**2014**

Dan forgets he loves Phil, until he remembers.

They’re making a video together, and Dan is acting like it’s stupid, because that’s his shtick these days. But then Phil says something really, really funny. Like, something too funny for a human mind to think up. And Dan starts laughing in a way that he hasn’t in a while. And for a second this part of his stomach gets warm in a way that it’s only gotten warm with Phil. And he just kind of remembers this feeling that he’s had a billion times before, but that he’s been deprived of for a while.

Later in the filming process, Dan says something vaguely funny. It’s some dumb joke that Dan finds very funny, but that no one else in the world would really appreciate. But then he looks over at Phil, whose eyes are closed, and is gulping up air like it’s difficult, he’s laughing so hard. And then Dan realizes how many times he’s looked over to see Phil in this position, and how many times he’s made him laugh, and how it feels amazing each and every time.

And then for the rest of the video, for the rest of the day, even, Dan is just looking at Phil. Watching the way his face bursts into a smile and bends into a pout. Shaking his head when Phil leaves the silverware drawer open, as fucking usual. Laughing when he starts paying attention to how funny the shit that comes out of Phil’s mouth really is.

The day goes on and Dan wants to reach out and wrap his arms around Phil. He’s just struck with the urge to hold and be held by this beautiful person who fell into his life _five years ago_ and somehow stuck around.

But he can’t. And for the first time it fucking hurts. There is physical pain somewhere in his chest, knowing that as much as he loves Phil, they fucked it up.

—

Phil never forgets he loves Dan. To be fair, Dan’s pretty loud, so it would be hard to forget.

It takes Phil a while to come to terms with a complete shutdown of their romantic relationship. Partially it’s because he is solely responsible for getting himself off now, which is a pain. But mostly it’s because Phil has loved Dan for a really long time, and doesn’t like having to restrict that love to a word like “friends.”

“Just friends.”

Ugh.

But he knows it’s better than it used to be. Sometimes he looks back at the videos that Dan made the previous year, and the complete and utter lack of Phil, and his stomach drops. For six months it’s as if he didn’t exist in Dan’s life at all.

Phil knows that obviously he still existed in Dan’s life during 2013, he just hadn’t existed in Dan’s _internet_ life. But in their line of work, real lives and internet lives intermingle pretty intensely. So he’s still sore about it, and he lets himself be sore about it.

It feels better now, to see himself in the thumbnails of Dan’s videos. It feels better to know that he can be honest with twitter about their evening plans without having to second guess whether they sound too intimate. It feels better to scroll through comments and know that no one is going to find out anything, because there’s nothing to find out anymore.

In September, he asks Dan if he wants to start a gaming channel.

Phil thinks about it _a lot_ before he asks, because it seems like a very political move. On the one hand, obviously the two of them would be making money off the new channel. So what was this, a business partnership? But on the other hand, they would seriously have to sit down and do videos together, all the time, which would result in a lot of time spent together. So maybe it would seem too gooey for Dan to get involved with.

But Dan says yes right away, without even thinking about it.

“Are you doing it for the money?” Phil asks, because he’s curious, and their relationship is finally at a point where he can ask honest questions.

“Yes, Philip, I am entirely money-driven these days,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “You know me, snapping up every sponsorship I can get my hands on. Hashtag spon.”

“Well, if you’re not doing it for the money, we can put our shares together and buy a rocket ship,” Phil says. 

“A rocket ship?” Dan laughs. “You’re such a loser." 

And then he gets up, pecks Phil on the lips, and goes into his bedroom.

  


———

  


**2015**

So, technically they’re not dating. Technically Phil ended it. But.

Dan kisses Phil all the time. He doesn’t do anything invasive, no tongue or anything. But pecks on the cheek, constantly. On the lips, sometimes. He holds Phil’s hand whenever they brush against each other, even if they’re in public. Whenever he takes a selfie he calls Phil over to be next to him in the frame.

He is _thirsty_ , and bad at hiding it.

He knows that Phil made the decision to end things for a reason. And he understands the reason, obviously. Still, he can’t help but push the boundaries of friendship a little bit. Who gets to define friendship anyway?

One day Phil starts kissing him back.

They don’t talk about it. But when they wake up to watch anime together, Dan leans his head on Phil’s shoulder, and Phil starts to sift his hand through Dan’s hair. When they go to get coffee together, Dan asks the barista to draw a heart on Phil’s, and Phil asks for cat whiskers on Dan’s, because they’re both 12 years old, apparently.

One day they’re at a house party and someone asks for Dan’s number, which Dan hands over, but not without clarifying that he’s already dating someone, and that he’s sorry for being so awkward.

Phil pulls him to the side after that one.

“Who are you dating, Dan?” Phil asks, groaning.

“I mean,” Dan says.

“Dan, we’re not, we’re not dating,” Phil says. He rubs his temples. “We haven’t dated in five years.”

Dan widens his eyes. “When were we last dating?”

Phil scoffs. “I mean, technically, never.”

“No,” Dan says, “We were dating, like, last year.”

“But we’ve never _called_ it dating,” Phil says.

“Of course we’ve called it dating.”

“No, Dan,” Phil says, rubbing his forehead. “Our whole problem is that we’ve never been formally dating. Ever. Besides maybe, like, six years ago, when we primarily communicated via Skype.”

“Phil,” Dan says, his voice crammed with skepticism, “We’ve lived together for, like, four years.”

“Yeah, but we’re fucking _roommates_ , remember?”

“Are you seriously referencing something I said three _years_ ago, Phil?”

“What?” Phil says, trying to call up whatever memory Dan is talking about. “No, I’m just talking about what we are. Which is roommates.”

“I’m so confused,” Dan says.

“Welcome to the club,” Phil deadpans.

They end the conversation there, even though Dan feels like nothing is resolved, or will ever be resolved. They go home. Dan goes to the couch, and Phil goes into his room and shuts the door. 

—

Phil is so tired of Dan’s shit. Phil is so tired of relationship shit. Phil is so tired.

If Dan just came out with it and said that he wanted things to change, that would be one thing. If he told Phil what he wanted, how he thought their relationship could work, what he thought their relationship currently was, Phil would be fine with that.

But instead Dan just _touches_ him, and bats his eyelashes, and laughs, and then claims that they’re dating at a house party, but never mentions that they’re dating before or after this one instance.

It’s infuriating. And it makes Phil feel like his heart is being peeled apart, tissue by tissue, cell by cell.

He doesn’t know how to proceed, though. He already told Dan that they were going to just be friends, which worked until it didn’t. He already tried to go along with Dan’s wordless affection, which left him feeling hollow.

He thinks that maybe it’s time to move out.

But there’s a knocking on his door, and then Dan opens it, and stands in the doorway, all tall and apprehensive. Phil doesn’t look up from his laptop.

“For the record,” Dan says, “I always just assumed we were dating.”

“Well we weren’t,” Phil says, not looking up, resolute.

“Well,” Dan says, “That means I wasted a lot of time that I could have spent hunting for pussy.”

Phil says nothing.

“It was a joke,” Dan says. “You know, humor.”

“Dan.”

“Right, sorry, you know how I am.”

“I do,” Phil says. Because he does know exactly how Dan is. But it’s nice for Dan to apologize about it.

“No, but I seriously just thought, that this whole time, we were dating. We, like, went on dates. We fucked. We kissed.”

Phil honestly didn’t expect to ever have this conversation, but he goes with it.

“What’s the difference between that and fuck buddies, though?” Phil asks.

Dan thinks about it for a second. “The ‘going on dates’ part."

“Were those really dates, though? Getting food together? What’s the difference between a date and having dinner with a friend?” Phil asks.

Dan thinks again. “I don’t know."

“The fact that we’ve never talked about this before,” Phil says, “means that we haven’t dated, Dan. And it means that our relationship has been really weird, as I’m sure you know.”

Dan racks his brain, because he feels like there’s something he really needs to say, but he can’t figure out what the hell it is.

“Wait,” he says. “Wait, we’ve definitely tried to talk about this before. I’ve definitely thought about this before. When I first dropped out, I asked you what we were. And you said roommates.”

“No,” Phil says, “ _You_ said roommates.”

“But you agreed with me!” Dan says.

“No,” Phil says. “Of course I didn’t agree with you.”

Dan blinks. Phil doesn’t.

“Why are we so stupid?” Dan asks.

Phil looks at him. He’s been looking at him this whole time, obviously. He’s been looking at him constantly for six years. So.

“I don’t know,” Phil says. “But we’re idiots.”

Dan smiles, then Phil smiles. They look at each other for a while. Neither says anything, and both are frustrated about it. But they’re edging somewhere toward closure, so there’s that.

  


———

  


**Some Unspecified Future**

Phil’s the one who steps up. He is older, after all. Maturity and all that.

He shows up at the breakfast nook first, and waits for Dan until it’s time for morning anime. Then they watch the anime, because Phil isn’t about to postpone a tradition. And then he clears his throat.

“So,” Phil says, searching Dan for a reaction before he even says anything, because he’s scared. “I have a proposition.”

“Okay, Churchill,” Dan says, raising an eyebrow.

“No, this is like, kind of a serious thing,” Phil clarifies, wincing.

“Oh and I just completely ruined your momentum with the shittiest joke of all time,” Dan says. “Typical.”

They both laugh, Phil breathes, things are okay.

“Okay, so, I think we should date,” Phil says.

“Sounds good.”

“And,” Phil adds, “I think that we should tell our friends, but not the internet. But that we shouldn’t get too freaked out about what the internet thinks or says. Um, what else. I made a list.”

“You made a list?” Dan asks.

“Yeah,” Phil says, “But I think I lost it.”

“You lost your list,” Dan monotones.

“Yes. But there was something on it about bedrooms. Oh, I think it’s fine that we have two bedrooms, but that maybe we should pick one to sleep in.”

“Mine,” Dan says.

“We can discuss the details later,” Phil says, smiling.

“No, mine,” Dan says.

“All right, yours,” Phil says, still smiling, because he was kind of expecting this. “And, I think we should be okay saying ‘I love you.’ Or at least talk about why you’re so bad at it.”

Dan gets kind of red and sputters a little bit. But when Phil doesn’t break eye contact, he nods.

“We can talk about it,” Dan says.

“Okay,” Phil grins. “Are there other things, that you would add, to our dating guidelines?”

“Guidelines?” Dan asks. “Should we have gotten a lawyer to write up a contract or something?”

“Well," Phil laughs. "If we get married, I _do_ want a prenup.”

“This is getting out of hand.”

“Okay, okay,” Phil says. “But I’m serious about the dating thing. I’ve articulated it now. There’s no going back after this.”

Dan flashes his non-sarcastic smile. Phil grins with his teeth.

—

In the mornings, Phil usually wakes up first. He does his best not to wake up Dan, but his too-long legs usually end up brushing against Dan’s calf, and in turn, Dan usually throws out his arm to smack Phil in the torso.

They keep up the tradition of watching anime in the mornings, because it helps them wake up. They appreciate the way it feels to start the day together. Even though it’s been years since they _haven’t_ started nearly every day together. 

Video editing is a gift sent from God, because whenever they collaborate on a video, someone always says something highly inappropriate. And for God’s sake, Phil’s _mom_ watches these things.

They feel old sometimes, when they think about how long it’s been since they’ve been making videos. It’s a number that people remind them of _constantly_. But they feel young when they think about how long they’ve been formally dating.

Still, Dan tries to insist that really they’ve been dating since 2009, just kind of off and on again, but mostly on.

Phil shakes his head, and warns Dan that if they’re not married by the time he’s 35, this will have been the saddest live-in boyfriend situation of all time.

Dan assures him that he won’t let that happen.


End file.
